Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged

Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunger Games

Warning: This Chapter contains sexual content.

Chapter 39: Distraction

Blaine's POV

The moment the anthem played, and the lights went out, did we rush out of the Victor's Booth. We couldn't stay and act like all was well. That the news for the Quarter Quells would be terrific. Every Hunger Games was not terrific. Hell, it was torture for all who are from the districts, and President Snow wanted us to torture us. We got the message loud and clear.

We are being punished.

Finnick, Johanna, Miya, and I left immediately once the cameras turned away. In the elevator, we stood trying to compose ourselves in case cameras were on us. Fortunately, we had avoided reporters, yet our bodies were barely holding on. My body was shaking while my eyes watered. Except no tears fell.

The moment the elevator reached the twelfth floor, all hell broke loose. As we made our way to the living room. The Avoxes saw this as I made a gesture to get drinks. They nodded as they rushed to get our orders.

President Snow's voice continued to whisper in my head, "The male and female tributes will be reaped from their existing pool of Victors."

Fifty-nine remain out of the seventy-five victors. A lot had died from old age and other circumstances. Hell, not even the first ten victors were even alive. The oldest being Mags from the eleventh Hunger Games. Besides natural deaths, many committed suicides or overdoses from alcohol poisoning, morphling, or stimulants.

Now twenty-four shall go back into the arena, and one shall come out, leaving the population of victors to thirty-five. Hardly any district shall have more than one mentor, and everything shall fall. Two years since the Career's last one, knowing District One and District Two, this is an act of valor. But not for the rest of us.

This was a second massacre.

I sat down on the couch, comforting Miya, who sobbed against me. She wept, saying she didn't want to go back to the Games. I told her she wasn't, there were three other female victors in ten, and her name being called was slim. Johanna glared at me at how I said it since not many Districts have four victors. I felt sorry for many victors who would be drafted into the games. Finnick looked out the window, furious, for he was drafted into the games, being the only male for District Four. I thought deeply about who else got drafted: Finnick, Johanna, Blight, Woof- oh God, I couldn't think anymore.

All my friends and those who raised me were going to the games. The oldest victors would probably volunteer in the games to save the younger ones or those with a family. Then it hit me, Haymitch would volunteer if Katniss asked him or Peeta using the guilt trick. Tears veiled my eyes when I thought about Katniss. She was only seventeen, and I was twenty-two. People would expect me or ask me to go to the games. But I don't want to go back into the arena like the next tribute.

The Avox returned with the drinks. Something strong, as Finnick and Johanna swallowed it down in a single gulp. Miya took a sip of the liquor but gagged at the burning taste. I sighed as I chugged down my drink, feeling the alcohol burning its way down my stomach.

"I got to go," Finnick said, leaving the apartment without another word.

"Same here," Johanna grumbles, following Finnick.

Miya held me tighter, crying on my shoulder. "I don't wanna die. Please don't send me in there."

"You're not going back in the games," I assured calmly, fighting the sob in my throat.

"Promise," she pleaded.

"…I can't promise." And with that, the girl wailed in fear.

The doors opened as Cinna came in, worried written on his face. He stood there tense, unsure what to do with a child present who was overwhelmed. Instead, he told an Avox to get some special soothing tea and sat down on the other side of Miya. Miya stiffened at his presence, unsure if he was a friend or foe.

"I'm sorry that this happened to you," Cinna apologized. "I'm here to help in any way I can."

"Aren't you excited about this year's games?" Miya asked bitterly.

"Well, I don't see the point in that." He answered, tucking a strand of hair off her face. "You all shouldn't be in this at all."

The Avox returned and gave Miya the cup of tea. She drank it and, in about ten minutes, fell unconscious. No doubt, sleep syrup was added to the tea. I decided Miya should spend the night here in case of nightmares or irrational thoughts. Cinna helped carry the fifteen-year-old into the guest bedroom and tucked her in.

I stood there staring down at the teenager who went through hell far younger than any of us. Other than Finnick, everyone who won has been sixteen or older. But to be a victor at thirteen…just becoming a teenager.

A pure innocent, I thought.

I shook my head and left. Leaving Cinna to tuck the girl in. I rushed into my bedroom and into the bathroom. Stripping away all the fineries of shoes and jewelry and collapsing onto the tile floor in the shower. Blindly, I struck the panel as the water poured down on me, and the dress stuck to my form like a second skin.

My body formed into a fetal position. Legs pressed against my chest while resting my head on my knees. My back pressed against the decorated cold wall. The water drenched me. Desperately, I tried to hold in my composure, yet the tears came pouring down.

All the screams, pleas, and cries bellowed in my head of those killed in the arena. Now they would be my friends…. Johanna, Finnick, and anyone I grew up with. I don't want to go back. I don't want to kill like a savage again, kill a tribute, to kill a friend. But the possibilities of going back are a fifty percent chance of going are tied to Katniss. She's young. They'll ask me to volunteer. Peeta, hell, District Twelve would want me to go.

A sobbed escape as I cried, knowing the truth.

"Blaine!" Cinna called out.

I stared at the opaque glass door.

The bathroom door opened as Cinna came in. He walked over to the shower, opened the glass door, staring down at me. I stared back at him, no longer holding the mask as I cried. Cinna took a deep breath, removing his jacket, shoes, and accessories before sitting in the shower. He maneuvered me around, so he was holding me in his arms.

I leaned into him, taking hold of his arm, "I can still feel the blood on my hands. It's not coming off."

"Here, let's see," Cinna murmured as he took my hand.

I struggled to unlatch my fist. Although he managed to get it to open to reveal manicured nails painted in French tips, the hallucination of the blood lingers under the nails. The polishes were replaced with cuts, dirt, and frostbite.

Cinna manipulated one finger and placed it in his mouth, sucking the invisible blood away. The warmth of his mouth brings me back to reality. He continued for each finger until reaching the thumb before entwining our hands together.

"That's better," he soothed.

I was still shaken as the tears continued to fall.

Cinna carefully used his other hand to free my hair from the bun before embracing me.

"I can't go back," I whispered, clinging to his arm tightly. "Not with my friends again."

At my game, I entered the arena with my best friend. I saw Michael die before my eyes. I held him in my arms as his blood stained the snow. Now there is a chance of me returning with my friends and the people who raised me. Finnick and Johanna are doomed to compete…I couldn't…I couldn't kill them. But I don't want to die.

This seems wrong.

The Quarter Quells theme doesn't seem right.

It was too soon to reap the victors when, fortunately, all the districts got at least one of each victor in gender. It had to be rigged. President Snow must have rigged the Hunger Games. All because of one person. All because of a stupid girl who pulled out those berries.

This was Katniss Everdeen's fault. Not even a year has passed, and she has caused the districts' uprising, Commander Thread being Head Peacekeeper, Seneca's death, Midnight's mutilation, and more. And I'm stuck cleaning her mess.

I had plans…dreams. I finally got my body back. Hell, I wasn't even twenty-three yet, and so much has happened in the last five years. I had lost my mom. I had isolated myself from my family, except for Haymitch. I had been reaped and entered the arena with my best friend. And I had lost him. Giving him my first kiss when he died. My innocence was gone. Not long after, my voice was no longer my own and soon my body. And the moment I thought I could have everything from a companion and possible family of my own…it was taken from me yet again.

No doubt people will demand I take Katniss's place.

She was the Girl on Fire.

One of the Star-Crossed Lovers of District 12.

And I was Blaine Abernathy, the Lady of Ashes.

The pariah of District 12.

"I don't wanna die," I cried.

Cinna didn't reply. Instead, he caressed my jaw, guiding my face to look at him. So many emotions lingered in his expression until he leaned down and kissed me. He kissed me. Not a simple sympathy kiss, but a passionate one. I gasped from shock, and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue, caressing everything. We haven't kissed like this in a while since grieving my cat.

He adjusted us, so I was sitting on his lap. His arms wrapped around me, palms pressed over the width of my shoulders. My mind was a wreck, lost in an internal conflict, yet his lips were addicting. Desperately returning me back to reality.

He pulled back just enough to murmur, "Tell me to stop."

However, I don't want him to stop. I need this. I needed him. I need to forget all that has happened in the last six months. For once, I want to be selfish. Even though this is not the right time in our relationship…it may never be.

Seeing there was no protest, he kissed me again, slowly. His lips moved, and gentle pressure took the lead. I parted my lips slightly under his, and he took advantage of it. I felt the early stages of arousal as my body began to tingle. The kiss wasn't sweet as mere pecks or gentle kissing. No. It was desperate with heat and hunger and want.

Cinna's hand slid down from my shoulder, taking the zipper and sliding it down to the small of my back. We pulled back to breathe, staring at each other's eyes. My livid orbs stared into his green hazel eyes. Both our makeup smeared off being drenched in the shower.

Together we removed the dress's sleeves, as it bunched between our abdomen. Cinna kept his eyes on my face as he grabbed the wash rag and cleaned my face. Removing the makeup, exposing the red puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. I took hold of the rag, softly pressing it against his eyes to wipe away the golden eyeliner and makeup from his interview.

If we are going to do this…I want to stare at Cinna.

Not the Capitol version of him…even if it was subtle.

"Blaine," he murmured, taking the rag away.

I stared at him.

I want this.

I want him.

But at the same time, this was Cinna. Not a client. My first experience with sex was traumatizing, as it was taken by force. Close to being raped by Augusta. All the other men expected more from me. To pleasure them. There was one who did provide pleasure to me…Seneca. As we fucked each other. However, this was different. Cinna was not a client. And there were emotions for him.

I don't want to treat him like a client.

"Blaine," he repeated, taking my face into his hands to look at him. "Let me lead."

I inhale sharply.

Not thinking, I kissed him again. All space or restraints were gone. This should be wrong, how he took advantage of my emotional disposition, yet it feels right. I wanted…no… needed the distraction from the madness, even if it was a moment of pleasure.

I need to feel loved.

And so, I kissed him again. The kiss became urgent and rough, with us fighting for dominance while struggling to remove each other's clothes. The dress was completely off, and his black shirt clumped to the floor. My eyes linger on his form. His body toned and leaned until I saw what looked like scars. They were faint like he was in a fight long ago.

"Not here," he murmured, breaking my concentration.

"What?" I panted.

"I don't want our first to be in the shower." He explained.

It took me a moment, but I nodded. I stood up, offering him a hand. He accepted standing up as well. We stood there partially naked with my undergarments and him with his pants on. He turned off the water before picking me up. I was baffled, not expecting that, yet allowed it.

He carried me to the bedroom, placing me down on the bed. Afterward, he grabbed the remote, changing the screen to a starry-lit sky. The room was dark, yet the panel showed a moon shining through. He climbed on the bed, crawling over me until our faces met. One hand rested on my thigh over the canary tattoo while the other near my head supported his weight as his legs trapped me in between them.

"Have you done this before?" He asked.

My eyes water slightly as I whisper, "Yes."

His expression was neutral, unable to tell if he was pleased or disappointed, "Are you on any birth control."

I nodded, "Implant."

He nodded as he took his hand to touch my left bicep to feel it. His thumb pressed on it, making the birth control rub against my flesh.

"Cinna," I mumbled.

He leaned down, pressing a peck upon my lips. "Let me take care of you."

I nodded.

His lips went along my neck, kissing my jaw up to my ear. "Let me make you feel warm again."

"Make me forget," I pleaded.

Cinna looked deep into my eyes to confirm the decision. This seemed wrong to some standards, but I wanted this. No, I needed this, even for a moment. I needed to forget. I need to feel like somebody cares about me. Also, I wanted to show Cinna how much I cared about him by letting him have what was left of me. What was left of Blaine Abernathy?

He kissed me on the lips, going down my neck and collarbone. I relaxed as he came up for another kiss. So full of passion and lust, I sat up a little and stared deeply into his face, illuminated by the moonlight. His green eyes flicker in gold flex. The slight scuffs on his face were simple and neat, not overly dramatic, that debated on his actual ethics. I traced my fingers over his lips, which he kissed lovingly. My heart rate creased at seeing such a mysterious man who captivated my body and soul.

He made me feel like a virgin again. As if this is how my first time should be. I wished I could have saved myself long ago, except I was sold to the highest bidder. But he didn't seem to care about the body count. Only that I was here in his arms.

A smile graced his lips as he kissed me again, but the need to be closer was gathering intensity. He tore his lips away from mine, pressing kisses down my cheek, neck, collarbone, and finally, between the valleys of my chest. How he kissed my body wasn't what I expected, or the others described sex. It wasn't simple fucking or passionate sex, not how Cinna maneuvered his kiss. No, it was like he was worshiping me, lighting sparks to a fire on the sensitive area that never existed.

Slowly, carefully he took my bra off, exposing my breasts to him. No comment was made. Instead, he leaned forward, placing kisses along my breasts. A whimper escaped as he took a nipple into his mouth, suckling lightly, his other hand on my other breast, massaging gently, molding it into his grasp. My breathing quickened, and I grasped at the sheets under me. The air around us became hot, and breathing from the same air was difficult while a fire blazed in the room. His name leaves my lips when he switches breasts, giving the same treatment. I don't know how long I shall last.

Suddenly he kissed lower, trailing his tongue along my sternum. His hands are on my hips, curling his fingers along the silk underwear and pulling them down my legs while my lips follow. I gasped, closing my thighs together on instincts unable to control. Cinna stopped his teasing, tossing the silk garment away before kissing his way back to my lips.

"Cinna," I moaned.

"Blaine," he murmured. "I'm here."

I was used to being naked, yet this seemed different. How he was kissing a body that has been altered to every man's fantasy. However, he kept his eyes on me. Not the body my soul was trapped in. Cinna chuckled lightly, rubbing circles against my hips while he kissed down on my neck, sucking a sensitive spot that had me mewing. I moaned, relaxing again to his touches till his hand cupped my sex. His touches were gentle, like he was manipulating fabric carefully, lightly against the seams. My hips involuntarily moved to the pleasure. I gasped when he pressed lightly against my clit.

He kissed me again, a soft light press that soon grew hungry yet gentle. He pulled back, pressing kisses along my cheek to my jaw. I turned my head slightly, trying to breathe, while he nibbled on the lobe, tugging gently on it with his teeth.

"Relax. Close your eyes and breathe. Spread your thighs for me."

Oh god, I thought.

I spread my legs apart, allowing him better access.

Cinna provided a hum in satisfaction. He strokes me, his fingers parted the lower lips, causing my breathing to hitch. His finger swirled on the clit, sending a jolt up my spine. I gripped his shoulders, trying to stay grounded. Except my hips betrayed me, grinding my sex against his hand. He strokes me there several times before inserting a finger inside me.

I gasped, opening my eyes and staring at him. My toes curled while gripping his shoulders. My stomach tightened, feeling his finger inside strokes, him whispering sweet nothings, leaning down and kissing my neck again. I know I should return the favor, yet I felt like a lead, unable to move.

He moved his finger slowly with deep pumps. Testing the waters in learning my body.

"Cinna," I gasped when he added a second finger, stretching me to a point all I felt was pleasure. I moaned, whimpered, and groaned uncontrollably, thrusting my hips against his hand, grasping his shoulders, feeling a coil spring tightening and tightening until it snapped. I threw my head back in a wave of pleasure, blinded by bright light, breathing out Cinna's name in the climax, arching my chest against his cover in sheer sweat.

When I opened my eyes to meet his, he smiled proudly, tucking a strand of hair off my face, and kissed me again. Kissing Cinna was like kissing a spark consuming me to a blaze of fire deep within.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered.

"And so are you," I murmured, then placed my hands on the belt of his pants.

Cinna adjusted himself, unfastening his belt before pulling his pants and briefs off. I stared at his form until my eyes lingered down to his member. He wasn't big, nor was he small. One would say just right. As his member was fully erect, desperate for attention.

I was about to reach and touch it, except Cinna took hold of my hand and laid us down again. Once more, him on top, taking the lead. By instinct, I wrapped my legs around his waist.

No words needed to be asked. Looking into each other's eyes told everything. I could feel him hard against my entrance. I smiled, wrapping my arms around his neck and bringing him down for another kiss as he took hold of his member and slowly pressed it against my core. It took a few tries until he slid into me gingerly. A groan escaped his lips, closing his eyes tightly in pleasure while I gasped, feeling my walls stretched.

It has been some time. As he continued with pressure added deeper as he went. Once he was fully in, we stayed like this, catching ourselves to believe this was happening. Our chests heaving that we were not one.

It was the most complete I'd ever felt. When he was completely inside me, I looked up at him, and we shared a special moment; there was something unique about us that words can't explain or describe. Cinna was everything to me, for he had completely changed me from somebody afraid of the unknown to welcoming it. So, with a nod, he moved in slow motion savoring the moment our eyes never left each other and our chests pressed to one another, feeling our heartbeat.

To feel this close felt exhilarating, wishing this night wouldn't end. I closed my eyes and ground my hips up to meet his. His thrusting increased quickly... As the pressure began to build inside me, I reached out, grabbing his head to bring him closer to a kiss and down to his neck, breathing in his scent. He groans, burying his face in my hair, holding me tightly until we both come.

Suddenly tears were falling down my cheek. Cinna pulled back, kissing them away as he rolled over to his side and held me in his arms as I cried softly. They weren't tears of sadness or pain, nor were they tears of joy. They were tears of many emotions held behind a mask for so long. Soft hands held my face gently, lifting it up to look at Cinna, who smiled reassuringly. I smiled and kissed him gently on the lips in gratitude.

I didn't want us to stop. Never knowing this will be the last time we will share this moment. Therefore, we continue to have sex, yet Cinna remains in control. Over and over, I came, allowing myself to feel and accept him.

Time seemed to vanish until we could no longer perform out of sheer exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. We stayed holding ourselves in each other's arms, waiting for sleep.

Our relationship had changed to the point where I got to start fighting instead of letting people control me. Only fate and I have control of my life. And I have a purpose to keep living with the man I'm slowly falling in love with.

The shower scene was inspired by Casino Royale.

I hope you all are enjoying the changes in this story.

Thanks for reading, and please leave a review!